


Percy Jackson: Declassified

by notpercy



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Some Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-14 04:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20594396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notpercy/pseuds/notpercy
Summary: It's me, Percy Jackson, here to deliver my own account of what's happening in the demigod world. Rick may or may not kill me for spilling the beans on this blog, but hey, I can always say this is just another fanfic (wink wink). If you wanna know what's going on outside of Apollo's shenanigans and more about Annabeth and my current life, look no more. Here are my declassified retelling of events and other stuff that the books won't show you.





	1. I Discover Fanfiction

“Okay.” Jason nodded. “I can accept this.” 

He turned a page. 

“It’s a fitting end,” he told himself. 

Jason sat at the kitchen table, poring over the latest book in the series, while I stood in front of the stove finishing up a batch of blue spaghetti sauce.

“Yeah?” I said, dumping a heap of steaming pasta noodles (also blue) on top of the sauce. “I gotta say, it was pretty heartbreaking to read. I almost thought you _ actually _died.”

Jason let out an exasperated sigh and closed the book. He crossed his arms on the kitchen table and plopped his head down on them. “At least I’m outta there. Hope everyone at Camp Jupiter can handle Apollo while I take a hiatus from the whole _ demigod _ business.” He rubbed his temples. 

For those of you who don’t know--well, I’m sure you do, actually--my name is Percy Jackson. My currently-grumpy friend over here is Jason Grace. You probably know us from the books written by our amazing camp scribe, Rick Riordan. And you probably also know that Rick killed Jason off in _ The Burning Maze _. 

Of course, that didn’t actually happen. 

You see, once Rick’s books started getting _ really _popular, mortals started recognizing us. They’d see our names, or particular physical attributes, and us demigods would get approached while we were off minding our own business. With a little manipulation of the Mist, however, we usually got away with our identities safe. We’d convince the mortals that they probably read our names wrong, or: “Haha, yeah, I get that a lot,” and we’d be on our way. 

(One of the few good things Mr. D did was give me a bunch of fake names I could use to shoo off the mortals. My current favorite was “Pierre Jorgensen”.)

Anyways, one day a mortal caught Jason off guard while he was busy waiting for an Uber. Guess she was an ultra-fan and recognized him from his scar and from the art Viria made for Rick. (I know it was for the sake of the readers, but damn Viria, did you really have to make our portraits _ spot on? _). The girl approached him with a tentative, “Are you Jason Grace?”, followed by a long pause, and then--“Huh, you look different in real life.”

For some reason, this really bothered him. Jason almost even forgot to manipulate the Mist before leaving for his Uber. He iris-messaged me once he was back in his dorm and was so uncharacteristically hurt by that little comment, repeating: “I looked _ different _? But Viria drew me from a photograph!”

After getting super salty, Jason asked Rick to take him out of the books. 

Now here he was, sitting at my dinner table, finishing the latest book in the _ Trials of Apollo _ series, while I was fixing dinner. Mom and Paul were off on a small road trip and would be back at the end of the weekend, so I made enough pasta for just Jason, Annabeth, and I.

Annabeth. Since she transferred to Goode High, Sally and Paul insisted she live with us for the sake of protection and, as her boyfriend, I was super stoked about that. A few weeks ago, she had to leave for Boston due to a family emergency. Once she got back, she freaked out about the amount of homework that had stacked up for her, so she’s been working overdrive to catch up. For once, I was actually ahead of her (but don’t tell her I said that), and right now she was at a cafe across our apartment building, working on Calculus homework. 

Yeah, I think that’s enough to bring you guys up to speed. Everything else in the books are accurate as far as I know, but you didn’t hear that from me (wink). The little shit (Leo) is alive, Apollo did indeed become a mortal, and--oh! Piper and Jason broke up.

I mixed the noodles and sauce together and threw a soggy dish towel into the sink. I then took a seat next to Jason and clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey man, enjoy the freedom. Now you can make your creepy god-shrines at both camps in peace.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “They’re not _ creepy _. I literally saved your life by promising your half-sister I’d make a shrine for her.”

“Potato, po-tah-to.” I shrugged. “Hey, when you’re done, can you score me a Poseidon action figure? I wanna give one to Estelle.”

He couldn’t help but break out a small grin. “Yeah, whatever. Is the spaghetti cooked?” He pulled out his phone and began absentmindedly scrolling through it. Probably looking up reviews on _ The Burning Maze _ and reactions to Jason’s “death” to make himself feel better.

Oh yeah. You probably read that electronics go haywire around us demigods. That in itself is true, but only with mortal-made phones and computers. Recently, the Hephaestus cabin hooked us up with smartphones and laptops connected to the internet through a private, godly network that somehow spans the entire Northern Hemisphere. I tuned out once they started explaining how it worked, but hey, I was just happy I could use Reddit again without being afraid of dying. Of course, I also wanted to finally update you clever readers who manage to find this blog about what’s _ really _ happening outside of Rick’s books. 

Again, you didn’t hear this from me (wink wink).

I was busy loading up three bowls with blue pasta goodness when the front door swung open, signaling Annabeth’s arrival. I then heard a backpack being thrown onto the couch, some sad footsteps, and felt a pouty Annabeth burying her face against the back of my shirt while she hugged me from behind.

“Hey honey,” I said.

“_ Mmmrph,” _was all I heard from her. She pulled away and plopped down on the kitchen table while I set down three spaghetti bowls. 

“Dinner is ready, children.”

Annabeth was too tired to snap back with a witty comment, so she settled for a short _ Go die _ glare. Her long, curly blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun, while her bangs were tucked behind her ear. She sported an oversized hoodie (which was mine, by the way), yoga pants, and some seriously jacked-up Converse chucks. She tugged off a maroon scarf and set it on the table before picking up a fork.

I love this woman. 

Annabeth and I were a few forkfuls into our dinner when I saw that Jason hadn’t touched his food. I looked up at him and noticed he was suddenly stiff, and his face was tomato-red. I nodded to him, saying, “I know I put some hot sauce in here but it’s not that bad.”

Jason shook his head no, a little too wildly, and then stammered. “U-uh, Percy? Annabeth?”

We both hummed in response.

“I know we just got these phones and stuff but…”

Annabeth slurped up a noodle and said, “Yeah?”

“Have you guys heard of fanfiction?”

“What?” 

Jason cleared his throat and pried his eyes away from his phone screen. “Gods, I know Rick has some fans but…” He coughed and sputtered. “So, like, you know how mortals know about us through the fiction books that aren’t actually fiction?”

“Yeah,” I garbled an answer through a mouthful of pasta.

Jason coughed again. “So I just found this website where fans write their own stories about _ us, _and… some people need to have their brains blasted with a water jet.”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

“Huh?” Annabeth stood up from her seat and peered over Jason’s shoulder, staring at his phone screen. Seconds later, her face flared up into a bright pink.

I went over to Jason and squinted at the screen. “Fandoms… Percy Jackson… Olympus…” I read aloud while Annabeth trudged over to her seat with a look of bewilderment still plastered on her face. I muttered more words while Jason silently read along with his hand over his face, peeking in between his fingers. 

Okay. So. Some of you are gross. Before typing this up, I scrolled through more stories on this website and I couldn’t help but shudder at the wild ideas you guys come up with. Some of them had pretty interesting summaries, but a majority of them were aggressively, er, _ sensual _ works that I now know are called “smut”. Not that I read any. It freaked me out whenever I read about myself in third person, and by the way, you guys got some stuff wrong.

But I mean, I’m kinda glad Jason brought it up because I was able to find this website <strike> (and it was also kinda hot) </strike> and at that moment I felt I needed to clear up some details.

“No,” I said, shaking my head at the unnervingly descriptive <strike>and well written </strike>erotica written about Annabeth and I. My eyes flicked to the bottom of the screen that displayed the author’s notes, where in which they announced the next chapter would be about Jason and Piper.

“I could have went my whole life without reading that,” Annabeth squeaked from across the table.

“This isn’t right.” I crossed my arms. “Annabeth’s a bottom, not a top.”

The last thing I remembered was a bowl of spaghetti flying into my face. 

Just kidding.

But Annabeth did fling a single noodle at me when I said that. 

Anyways, the rest of that night went pretty uneventful. We finished dinner, sent Jason off, and I’m typing this while waiting for Annabeth to finish showering. Hope this is enough to catch you guys up to what’s actually happening over on our end, and I plan to update this thing like a blog as often as I can. 

Please don’t send me any gross, er, _ works _ . I’m talking to you, [redacted]. 

Peace out.


	2. Sometimes I'm Sad

Something the books gloss over are the nightmares. Rick doesn’t really tell you about them, but hey, Annabeth and I never liked talking about it. 

Yeah, sorry for the change of tone in this entry. I know the last one was a little more upbeat, but I figured I can be real with you guys here. 

Last night, when Annabeth fell asleep in my arms, I couldn’t help but think about all the things we’d been through together. I mean, we literally went to _ Tartarus and back. _ Sometimes the thought of it, and the memories from down there, seem so far-fetched and out of place in my brain that I could almost convince myself that none of it was real. 

Unfortunately, they were.

Demigod PTSD counseling isn’t really something you can just look up online and make an appointment for. One of the crappy things about being half god is that the memories from quests are just another weight you have to bear with, live through, and tough out. Sometimes I’m a little envious of Piper’s dad for being able to take that short-term memory loss potion, but I also know I wouldn’t be the same person if I hadn’t gone through the things I did. I mean, I already _ did _ experience amnesia when Hera/Juno stole my memories and dropped me in with the Romans, and that sucked. 

But still, the aftermath of saving the world twice can get a little too much to handle. It’s why I turned down Apollo when he showed up at my front door. I can’t risk losing Annabeth or myself again. Not so soon, at least. 

That was another thing. We’d already lost so many of us dealing with bullshit from the gods. I wish I could say that, like Jason, the others who “died” actually just asked Rick to be written out of the books, but that wasn’t the case. Their deaths were cruelly, painfully real.

These are the kinds of thoughts that would haunt me if I stayed up too late at night, but it’s not like the dreams were any better. They were the same thing, really, but fleshed out. Sometimes I’d find myself back in Tartarus with Bob and Damasen, or I’d relive the moments before the Princess Andromeda blew up with Beckendorf still in it, or I’d rewatch the Talos prototype topple over with Bianca inside. 

The worst nightmares were the ones with Annabeth in it. My brain would conjure up different fucked-up ways I could potentially lose her, or it would convince me that I already had. It would replay those memories when Annabeth was kidnapped by Dr. Thorn and I tore through the entire country looking for her, or when I’d lost my memories and she had to wonder for eight long months if I was still alive, or--and this was one of the worst--when she was stabbed during the Battle of Manhattan and I kept repeating to myself, definitively, that, “It should have been me.”

Sometimes the nights were rough. 

I guess Annabeth had a hard time falling asleep last night too, because she started stirring at around midnight. We were both on my bed, which was something we only ever dared to do when Mom and Paul were out of town on their weekend-long dates. I had my arm around her while she was curled up on my chest, and I felt her breaths grow fuller and less shallow. Then she sniffed, looked up, and squinted at me through the darkness of my room. 

“Percy?” she said in that cute, raspy, I-just-woke-up voice that I loved so much. 

“Yeah?”

“Why are you still awake?”

I tried to give her a reassuring grin. “Coffee from earlier is keeping me up.”

She didn’t buy it. Annabeth reached up and cupped her hand around my cheek. “Is it… you know… ?”

My grin wavered, then disappeared. “Yeah.”

Annabeth nestled closer and wrapped an arm around my waist. She buried her head back into my chest and whispered, “Me too.”

I tightened my hold around her. 

When I said that you guys had some stuff wrong in your, er, _ fanfics _ , Annabeth was one of them. Yeah, 99% of the time she _ was _ and _ is _ the die-hard, smart-ass Wise Girl we all know and love but, around me, it was a different story. 

When she was with me, I got to see something else: the small, scared, vulnerable Annabeth Chase that was forced to grow up way too fast. Seven-year-old Annabeth who ran away from home. Annabeth who had to carry the weight of the sky on her shoulders. Annabeth who was convinced that I’d died back at Mount Saint Helens. I was allowed to see her crumble. 

I guess part of the reason she loves me is that she doesn’t have to be strong around me.

(Which is why I said, whenever we were _ intimate _, that she is, in fact, a bottom.)

I know I’ve hurt her a lot in the past, due to complications with Rachel, Calypso, and all that other business (shoutout to Aphrodite for making my life just a _ little bit _ harder than it needed to be), and I both hate myself and treasure her even more for putting up with that.

“I love you, Wise Girl.” I stroked her hair. I never said that enough.

“I love you too, Seaweed Brain.”

Then I forced myself to sleep.


	3. Grover Pays Us a Visit

Before any of you ask: 

No, I didn’t see the movies.

I couldn’t even get through the trailer for the first one.

Rick told us about it when some producers wanted to turn his novels into films. He also said that the director was so god-awful that Rick didn’t even show up to the premiere. At the time I didn’t really care much about it (I was kinda gearing up for the final showdown with Kronos/Luke when filming began for the first book) but ever since us demigods got access to the internet,  _ man. _

It’s like every detail that could’ve went wrong,  _ went wrong _ . Seriously! If, on some off chance, the gods have spared you and you  _ haven’t _ seen the movies or any of the trailers,  **don’t. ** Annabeth had to pull me away from the laptop screen before I could look up the director’s name so he could get an earful from the  _ real _ Percy Jackson.

Yeah, okay, maybe I am just a little pissed that the Harry Potter franchise got all the good glory and funding. But you can’t blame me! He’s literally a fictional character, living in a fictional wizard world, with a fictional bad guy. Me? The Percy Jackson books? Heroes of Olympus? Those things actually happened!

Anyways, that’s not even the point of this entry. I just thought about it right before I started writing and made myself mad again.

Ahem.

This morning, I woke up with a hankering for enchiladas. 

Annabeth softly shook me awake, asking, “Percy? Are you okay?”

I opened one eye to a mess of blonde curls dangling over my face and wide, stormy pools looking down at me. For a brief, fleeting moment, I panicked and thought,  _ I’m late for practice! _ But then I remembered it was a Saturday, and that I was at home with the love of my life, and then the fear in my chest disappeared as quickly as it came. 

I leaned up and planted a small kiss on Annabeth’s cheek, and plopped back down onto my pillow. “Was I screaming in my sleep again?” I groaned before letting out a huge yawn. 

I wouldn’t know. My sleep last night was dreamless (thankfully). 

Annabeth sat back on the bed next to me, grinning. “No, you just kept mumbling  _ ‘Fooood!’  _ in your sleep.”

I raised my arms above my head and stretched. Then I rolled towards her, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her down onto the bed with me. “Huh, that’s funny.”

“Percy! I’m cooking breakfast! Let me go or the bacon will burn!” 

“We better whip up something vegetarian too,” I mumbled, and then planted another kiss on her forehead. “I think Grover’s coming to visit.”

How did I know this, you might ask?

It all started when Grover almost married a cyclops. I’m not going to go into detail about that because, well--you guys read the book. You know what I’m talking about.

That super sweet empathy link Grover and I had with each other ever since we were kids confirmed my prediction. While Annabeth buzzed him through the entrance of our apartment building, I couldn’t help but wonder if Grover felt any of my food cravings every once in a while too. I pondered this as I set up the kitchen table with plates and silverware until there was a soft knocking on our front door.

“ _ Percy!” _ Grover bleated as he threw his arms around me. 

I returned the hug graciously. “I’ve missed you, buddy.”

Annabeth popped up beside me and Grover quickly pulled her in. “It’s been a minute, huh?” she laughed as we all stumbled into a group hug.

“Too many minutes!” Grover exclaimed.

We headed into the kitchen where breakfast was set up.

“We didn’t have anything to make enchiladas,” Annabeth said as she sat down. “Are blue pancakes and hash browns okay?”

I grinned. (Guess which one I made.) 

“Don’t worry, this is perfect,” Grover replied as he and I took our seats at the table. “I’ve been craving blue pancakes for some reason.” 

I whistled. “How’s the Lord of the Wild doing?”

“Gods,  _ way better _ than a month ago.” He sighed while reaching over to grab some syrup. “I see you guys have Rick’s newest book.” His eyes flickered to the copy Jason had left on the table the night before. “Everything’s pretty much in there. Man, that guy writes  _ fast _ .” 

Annabeth and I nodded in agreement. As Grover spoke, I loaded up my plate with blue pancakes, bacon, eggs, and more pancakes. (Sorry. Pancakes > hash browns.)

“Anyways, the fires in California are finally put out--thankfully--and the Meliai pretty much have that whole region covered. For once, I actually have time to go visit you guys. How have you two been? It’s been  _ so long _ .”

“Too long,” Annabeth reached over to my plate and picked off a bacon slice. “High school, studying, the works. I feel like I’ve aged a decade since we took down Gaia, even though it’s only been a few months.”

“No kidding.” I shoved a fried egg into my mouth and chewed. “Classes, the SAT, the DSTOMP. So. Many. Exams. We both gotta work double time to catch up so we can enroll in New Rome by next fall.” 

A depraved voice in the back of my head whispered,  _ If it still exists by then _ .

I’m not sure if it was my empathy link with Grover or Annabeth’s natural intuition, but the atmosphere in the room suddenly grew solemn after I finished talking. I glanced up and saw that Annabeth was looking down at her plate, while Grover started chewing on his fork. 

It was quiet for a few seconds.

“We can do it,” Annabeth finally declared in a small voice, though I wasn’t entirely sure what she was referring to by that. 

Grover cleared his throat. “Percy, Annabeth…” he began, drawing out our names slowly. “No one blames you. I hope you both know that.”

I tensed up. Annabeth placed a soft hand against my forearm. 

“You were at the front of both wars. That’s two more than any demigod needs in a lifetime. You two literally went through…” Grover’s voice trailed for a few moments before he found the right words to say, “… too much.”

“To Hell and back,” I said at the same time.

“Actually, Tartarus,” Annabeth corrected. 

Aside from my girlfriend, Grover was probably the only other person in the world who could come close to understanding how I felt. How I still feel. And I’m not just saying that because we have this empathy link, or because satyrs have this inherent ability to empathize with their companions really well, but because he was my best friend.

A long time ago, Annabeth told me that my  _ hamartia _ was my personal loyalty. That I would sacrifice the whole world to save the people I love. And while that’s still true, I’m a lot different than how I was when I first found out I was a demigod. Now, years later, too many horrible, awful things go through my mind and remind me of the trauma of our quests, of our battles, and honestly--I’m tired. I’m so tired. Torn apart by my fatal flaw and my desire to just fucking  _ settle down _ and take some time for myself, well, it was eating at me. 

We haven’t really talked about it, but I knew it was eating at Annabeth too. 

“Camp Jupiter can take care of themselves. I’m sure of it,” I said, though it felt more like I was telling myself that. “Tyson will just beat up anyone who gets in their way.”

“Or Reyna,” Annabeth supplied. “The gods know she could kill anyone with her glare.”

“I think  _ your _ death stare is hotter, babe.”

“Okay, that just cost you another bacon slice.”

“Hey!”

The stiffness in the air eased after that. We continued eating breakfast and Grover caught us up with how things were going with his wood nymph girlfriend Juniper, Coach Hedge and Mellie’s new son Chuck, alongside supplying his new experiences and impressions of Apollo (a.k.a Lester Papadopoulos) and his new demigod master.

“Meg is a piece of work,” I laughed through a mouthful, scraping my fork against my plate for the last few scraps of food I had left (that Annabeth  _ didn’t  _ steal). 

“I know!” said Grover. “She literally summoned me while I was in the middle of sleeping!” 

Annabeth frowned. “I want to see Apollo get bullied by a twelve-year-old.”

I grinned. “You should’ve seen Peaches. He’s like the karpos version of Groot.”

We finished up our meal and cleaned up. After putting our leftovers in the fridge and dumping our plates in the sink, the three of us decided to go out for a walk.

I shoved my hands in my pockets as we strolled through the streets of New York. It was still early, around 9 AM, so the brisk, morning chill still lingered in the air. Annabeth stood between Grover and I and she hooked an arm around each of ours, connecting the three of us. For a few minutes it was quiet (as quiet as New York could be on an early Saturday morning), but it wasn’t awkward. Actually, it was really nice.

My mom once told me that you’re with the right people when you can be quiet around them. Where you don’t feel the need to talk, to entertain, to fill the air with sound. When their presence alone is all you need to be happy. That’s how I felt having both of them with me. 

“Like old times, huh?” Annabeth turned to me and smiled, like she knew what I was thinking. (Well, she always knew what I was thinking, even before  _ I  _ did.)

Gods, she was gorgeous. “Yeah,” was all I could muster while I stared dumbly at her.

“I miss this,” Grover sighed. “Life was a lot simpler when we were being attacked by Medusa.”

“Or hydras.”

“Or Clarisse.”

Somehow we found ourselves at Central Park. Grover lead us towards a patch of grass underneath a big tree, and then looked at me.

“The ground’s still wet. Percy?”

“Say no more.”

With a wave of my hand, the dew drops on the grass evaporated, and the ground was dry enough for the three of us to lay on. Annabeth sat with her back against the tree trunk and gestured for me to lay in her lap. Grover settled on the ground next to me and crossed his arms behind his head.

And I was happy. 


End file.
